


Thirteen Minutes

by S0lstice



Series: Whumptober 2019 [6]
Category: Marvel Cinematic Universe, Spider-Man (Tom Holland Movies), Spider-Man - All Media Types
Genre: Alt Prompt: "Stay Quiet", Alt Prompt: Bound, Angst, As Cap would say: Language!, Blood and Injury, Excessive use of duct tape, Gen, Hurt Peter Parker, Hurt/Comfort, Irondad, Peter Parker Needs a Hug, Prompt: Beaten, Tony Stark Acting as Peter Parker's Parental Figure, Violence, Whumptober 2019, spiderson
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-10-26
Updated: 2019-11-01
Packaged: 2021-01-04 01:47:26
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 2
Words: 9,317
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21189530
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/S0lstice/pseuds/S0lstice
Summary: Tony and Peter stop at an electronics store and Peter unknowingly walks in on a heist in progress.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Whumptober 2019  
Prompt: Beaten  
Alt Prompt: Bound  
Alt Prompt: "Stay quiet"

Peter made a small noise of disappointment when he held one of his earbuds to his ear and heard no music. He tried turning the volume up on his phone. Again. Then he unplugged the headphone jack and blew into the little hole at the bottom of his phone before plugging it back in. Then he fiddled with the cord, turning and twisting it and holding it in different positions to see if any noise would come through. He got the occasional static blip but that was all. He picked determinedly at the little piece of duct tape wrapped around the the frayed and exposed wires at the base of the cord. 

“What on earth are you doing?”

He paused his losing battle with the earbuds long enough to glance at Tony, who was giving him the side eye from the driver’s seat. 

“You look like you’re trying to perform brain surgery.”

Peter sighed and finally dropped his hands back to his lap. “It’s nothing, my headphones just finally died.”

“Is that duct tape?”

“Yeah,” he responded quietly, feeling in equal parts embarrassed and indignant. 

Tony reached a hand over and lifted the end of the cord, giving it a brief yet critical eye. “Why do you even still have these? They look like they should have been replaced about a year and a half ago.”

Peter quickly took them back and stuffed them into his backpack with a tinge of self-consciousness coloring his cheeks. “They still worked!”

His mentor just chuckled, drumming his fingers lightly on the steering wheel despite the lack of music in the car. “You still coming by this weekend? I’ve got some good ones I can give you. They’ll last a lot longer than those and you won’t even need duct tape. I could get you a cordless pair too, but I’ll be honest I’m a little worried you’ll accidentally swallow one or something.”

Peter had turned to watch the storefronts pass by, illuminating the night with their bright signs and window displays, but quickly turned back to Tony. “Oh no, Mr. Stark, that’s okay! I mean thank you. That’s really nice and everything, but I can buy a new pair tomorrow. I was just hoping I could get these to last for a couple more hours is all.”

“Why’s that, kid, you trying to tune me out for the rest of the ride?” Tony gave him an accusatory look. It was clearly all in good humor, but Peter panicked nonetheless. 

“Oh my God, no! It’s just that I have a little bit of a headache because it was kind of a loud day, and um. You know, sometimes it’s hard to tune all the noise out when I’m trying to fall asleep after a loud day, and I was really hoping to get a good sleep tonight because I had a test today that I did really well on! But I only did well because I barely slept last night studying for it, so I’m really tired. It just... sometimes helps to listen to soft music. When I go to sleep.”

Tony put the blinker on in barely enough time to take a hard right onto a street that definitely wasn’t on the way back to Peter’s apartment. 

“Mr. Stark?”

“There’s a Best Buy two blocks from here,” he explained simply. “You can use my card. Get some that will last this time.”

Peter instantly felt a rush of gratitude. “Wow, Mr. Stark, are you sure? You really wouldn’t mind stopping?”

“Sure, kid. It’s not far out of the way.”

“It’s almost ten fifteen, do you think they’ll still be open?”

“We’re about to find out.” He pulled his sleek black Audi down another side street and into a small parking lot. There was only one other car in the lot but the lights were still clearly on inside the electronics store. 

“Looks like you’re good.” He started to pull his wallet out but Peter quickly stopped him with a hand on his arm. 

“No, Mr. Stark! I have my own money,” he assured, digging his own wallet out of his backpack. “I’ll be quick, promise! Thank you so much!”

Tony furrowed his eyebrows briefly but then let it go. “Okay, well, scamper on in then. They probably do close soon.”

Peter gave a him a bright, grateful smile before getting out of the car. Even after having known Mr. Stark for almost a year, slowly getting closer to him, spending more time with him, and getting more comfortable with him, he still found himself marveling at how surreal his life had become. 

His childhood hero, his _lifetime _hero, _Ironman_, had driven him to a store to buy headphones just because Peter told him they would help him sleep. The simple fact that Tony wanted to drive him home instead of sending out Happy was surreal. At least when it came to Mr. Stark, Ned was right. His life was amazing. 

He opened the door to the Best Buy and heard a faint dinging in a back room to alert employees to his presence. He made straight for the aisle marked for headphones and let his eyes wander over the display racks. Despite Tony’s desire for him to get a better quality set, he truly didn’t have much money to spare so he looked for the cheapest ones. He zeroed in on a pair that were just a step above the lowest quality and were slightly more expensive, but he immediately knew he couldn’t pass them up. 

He would be made fun of for wearing them. But it would be worth it. 

He grabbed them and made his way to the counter. The store was silent, save for the generic and overplayed pop tunes that played weakly through the store’s speakers. 

He heard some rustling from the side room just off the check-out counter and then a man stepped into view. He was bald with a thick copper-colored beard and dark brown eyes that glared at Peter with barely concealed irritation. 

The skin on the back of Peter’s neck began to prickle as soon as he met the man’s eyes. 

“Hi, um, I’m sorry, I know you’re closing soon but I just need these -“

“We’re already closed,” the man cut him off bluntly. 

Taken aback, Peter stared at him a moment before glancing back towards the door, but it wasn’t visible from the counter. 

“The sign said you close at ten thirty...?” 

The employee’s eyes hardened a touch and then darted into the side room. Peter tried to subtly follow his gaze but he couldn’t see what the man was looking at. 

“Um, is everything okay?” Peter asked, keeping his voice quiet. 

“It’s fine, we’re just closed. Come back tomorrow,” the man replied curtly. 

He couldn’t. Something was wrong here, something was happening. He let his eyes linger on the man, who was wearing a blue supervisor’s vest with the name ‘Victor’ on a small metal pin. Peter shifted nervously on his feet. 

“Are you sure?” He asked carefully, his voice just barely above a whisper. He would never forgive himself if this man was in danger of some kind and Peter just left without trying to help. 

But the man just scoffed and shook his head. 

“You’re a fucking moron, kid.”

Peter’s eyes went wide as the sensation in the back of his neck went suddenly from a vague tingling to a full on spike of warning. He tried to duck but wasn’t quite fast enough, and something metal cracked into the back of his head. Pain shot through his skull and he staggered, grabbing onto the edge of the counter to try and stay upright as bright spots raced across his vision. Before he could get steady, a hand gripped the back of his neck and forced him facedown onto the countertop. He immediately started to push back but then went still when he felt the barrel of a gun dig into his ribs. 

There were a few seconds where Peter could only hear his own thundering heartbeat and unsteady breathing, then the man behind him leaned over his back, pressing close to speak directly into his ear. 

“You really shoulda just left, little guy,” he said in a surprisingly soft voice. The warm breath tickled some of the little hairs on the back of Peter’s neck, forcing an involuntary shiver out of him. The man chuckled and then slowly straightened, but kept Peter down on the counter by his neck. “Now we’ve gotta take time out of our evening to deal with you, and whatever you had planned for the night is going to have to wait.”

“You can just let me go,” Peter reminded, fingers curling nervously against the scratched glass countertop. His voice came out a tad squeaky but still more reasonable than he expected, considering. “I don’t know what you’re doing, or-“

“What do you think we’re doing, genius?” The bearded man snapped, then disappeared into the side room, pulling off the employee vest as he went. “Hurry up and bring him back.”

Peter was pulled up by the back of his t-shirt and forced toward where the bearded man, now gripping a gun of his own, held the door to the back room open for them. 

“Just let me go,” he tried again, slowing down and subconsciously beginning to push back against the man behind him. He didn’t want to go back there. It felt like walking into a cage, even though they already clearly had the advantage over him. “I can’t ID you, I don’t even know who you are.”

“Well, you can call me Barrett, then, how about that? Now you know me,” the man behind him said. The hand in his shirt tightened in warning, the gun digging a little harder into his back. “It doesn’t matter if you know our names.”

The bearded man’s face was dark with anger as he helped pull Peter into what seemed to be some sort of combination between a break room, office, and storage area. 

“Fucking moron,” the man muttered again, grabbing a handful of Peter’s shirt and throwing him onto the unswept linoleum floor. Peter immediately noticed several things. 

One: there was a table in the corner holding a computer, under which was a large safe with its door blasted open, only loose papers left inside. 

Two: there was an open door on the other side of the room leading directly into a large warehouse area with shelves upon shelves of boxes containing televisions, audio systems, smart phones, and tablets. 

Three: there was a trail of blood right by Peter’s head that lead in a smear around the side of a well-worn couch and stopped at a pair of feet that were duct taped at the ankles. The rest of the body was blocked by the couch. 

Peter let out a short breath, heart hammering in his chest, and immediately tried to get back to his feet. He made it to his knees before two sets of hands latched onto his arms. He wrenched hard to one side and managed to pull one arm free, immediately throwing his elbow back and hearing a grunt when the blow landed. 

He couldn’t use his full strength if he wasn’t in his suit, but that didn’t mean he couldn’t fight. 

He twisted around and tried to yank his arm out of the bearded man’s grip but then there was a hand in his hair. His head was pulled backward and then slammed violently into someone’s knee. For one or two seconds his vision went black as pain engulfed him, radiating in pulses through his head and making it difficult to think, much less move. There were still floating gray patches in his vision when he regained awareness of his surroundings. He was being held somewhat upright on his knees and the bearded man was right in his face, holding his head up with a hand in his hair again. 

“Do you not know what this is, moron?” He yelled, waving the gun in Peter’s view. “It’s something I can _kill _you with.” The butt of the gun whipped across Peters temple and he couldn’t stop the sharp cry of pain that escaped him as his head snapped to the side. “Fight back again and I’ll use it for more than these little love taps, you little shit.”

They pushed him down onto his stomach and a boot landed heavily between his shoulder blades, pressing down with crushing force. He laid quiet, blood clogging his nose and leaking down his face from his temple and somewhere else near his eyebrow. 

He grunted and squeezed his eyes shut when his hands were pulled too far up behind him, straining and pulling at the muscles in his shoulders. His wrists were crossed and his eyes flew open again when he heard the unmistakable ripping sound of duct tape being pulled. 

His thoughts went to Tony, sitting in his car just outside in the parking lot and waiting for Peter to return. How long had it been? Long enough for him to start to worry? When Peter ran through it in his mind, he realized it had really only been a few minutes. 

The duct tape began to wind around his wrists, over and over and over until Peter began to worry that even if he used his full strength it would take him a minute to rip through. Finally they cut it off and let his aching arms drop to his back. 

He thought that would be it, that they would leave him there and go back to raiding the store, but instead he was dragged back up to his knees. He finally got a clear look at Barrett when he crouched down in front of Peter. He had a gentle smile on his face and dark brown hair pulled back in a loose bun. His gun was tucked into his belt, but Peter felt another one at the back of his skull and fingers digging into his shoulder from behind, holding him down. 

“My my, look at that face,” Barrett said, amusement twinkling in his gray eyes. He patted Peter on the cheek. “Aren’t you cute?”

Peter jerked his head away but the man just chuckled as he began to pull the duct tape off the roll again. He slapped the end of it to Peter’s chest and then began to wrap it tightly around his torso, trapping his arms even more securely against his sides. Peter couldn’t help but squirm at the feeling of extra restriction and tried to move away, but the fingers on his shoulder dug in painfully and kept him in place. 

“Sorry, little guy,” Barrett continued conversationally as he cut the tape and patted the last of it firmly on Peter’s chest again. “Wrong place, wrong time.”

Peter’s eyes gravitated toward the smear of blood and the feet he could barely see on the other side of the couch. “Is he dead?” he asked quietly. The supervisor’s vest lay discarded on the floor nearby. 

Barrett glanced over with him and shrugged his shoulders. “I dunno, maybe. Our buddy here whacked him pretty hard. Several times,” he replied, tipping his head towards the bearded man behind Peter. Then he leaned in close to whisper as though sharing a great secret with him. “Jason’s got a bit of a temper.”

“What the hell.” A new voice spoke up and Peter’s heart dropped at the sight of a third, blond-haired man standing in the doorway of the warehouse. “Who the hell is that?”

“He’s a little shit who should have left when he was told to,” Jason snarled and then planted his foot against Peter’s back and gave him an angry kick. Without his hands or arms free to catch himself, Peter landed flat on his chest with a grunt, only barely managing to turn his head in time to not crack his chin open on the floor. 

Peter’s breath caught in his throat when Jason grabbed a fistful if his hair again, pressed his face into the floor, and leaned into him with a knee digging painfully between his shoulder blades. 

“Does anyone know you’re here?” He barked and Peter momentarily froze, unsure of how to answer. The second of hesitation was the only excuse the man needed to lift his head and slam his bruised cheek back into the ground. 

Peter gasped in pain and Jason lifted his head threateningly again. 

“No! No one knows I’m here, I walked here alone.” Tony was going to come in looking for Peter at some point and he didn’t want these men waiting for him when he did. 

Jason paused and then slammed his head into the floor anyway and Peter whimpered as pain shot through his head once again. 

“Can one of you help me carry the rest of this shit?” the blond man said lazily from the doorway. “Jesus. I don’t want to be here all night.”

Jason moved away and Peter drew in deep breaths as the pressure against his back was finally alleviated. 

“You guys go, I’ll watch him,” Barrett said. 

The blond dropped his eyes to Peter. “Does he really need watching? He’s kind of small, and you wrapped him up pretty good.”

“I don’t take chances. Just go, hurry up.”

The two other men disappeared into the warehouse and Peter was left on the floor with Barrett, who wasted no time in pulling Peter’s legs back and starting to duct tape his ankles together. 

“You don’t have to do that,” Peter said, voice wavering slightly. It was bad enough to have his hands and arms restrained. But Peter wanted to know he could at the very least stand and move if he needed to. Be at least slightly useful when Tony got there. If his ankles were tied too, he would truly be immobile. 

He could pull the tape apart, but it wasn’t smart to try fighting again. He couldn’t get free fast enough to dodge a bullet, and he couldn’t let these men find out who he really was. 

As it was, Barrett paid him no mind and bound his ankles together anyway. 

_Come on, Mr. Stark_, he pleaded silently. _It’s been too long for me to be in here. _

Unless Tony had been using this time to make phone calls and had lost track of time. Peter’s gut twisted at the thought. It was very possible. 

Barrett started rifling through some of the boxes along the walls and Peter quietly rolled onto his back. He craned his neck to see if he could get a better view of the person on the other side of the couch and slowly pushed himself in that direction. 

Unsurprisingly, he only made it a couple inches before Barrett turned back to him. 

“You just don’t know what’s best for you, do you?” He took Peter’s bound ankles and dragged him back to his original spot. “You’re really lucky Jason’s not the one watching you.”

“Please, I just want to see if that guy is okay. He might be dying.” 

“He probably is. It didn’t look good.” The man said casually as he maneuvered Peter to sit with his back against the couch before beginning to tear up an old t-shirt he had pulled from one of the boxes. 

“You have to help him!” Peter clenched his fists behind him in frustration and flexed his arms a little bit to test the tape. It was very,_very _tight, and strong. Any tiny bit he could move pulled and pinched at his bare arms. He couldn’t move his wrists at all. 

Barrett crouched in front of Peter and ripped off a short piece of duct tape before holding up a balled up chunk of the t-shirt. “Open up.” 

Peter drew the line there. 

“No! Are you kidding? Who am I going to scream to? You guys are the only ones here and you’ll shoot me if I do!”

“Very true, but if you can still make noise even after we leave then there is a chance you can get help before we are a safe distance away. Now open up.”

“No! Why don’t you just go help your friends so you can do us all a favor and leave sooner? You’re the slowest thieves I’ve ever seen.”

For a few seconds the room was so silent that Peter could hear the distant shuffling and grunting of the other two men in the warehouse. An empty feeling began to grow in the pit of his stomach and his breathing picked up as Barrett reached forward to run his fingers into his hair, but he forced himself to stay still. Then the man’s steely gray eyes turned sharp and his grip tightened, pulling Peter’s head back with a harsh yank. 

“Open your fucking mouth now or I’ll beat your face so bloody that it will hurt to ever say the word ‘no’ again.”

Peter swallowed, and his eyes darted to the employee. “I’ll do it if you check on him.”

The man sighed and then gave him a patronizing smile. They both knew he could just force the cloth into Peter’s mouth. It would just be a lot easier for him if Peter cooperated. “Okay. Fine. I’ll check on him.”

“And you have to help him if he’s dying.” Peter’s arms twitched and pulled in aborted attempts to grab the man’s hand and relieve the ache in his neck from being bent back too far. 

The smile just grew wider. 

“If there is something simple that can be done to delay his death then I will do it.” He cocked his head to the side. “Happy?”

Peter furrowed his eyebrows but then nodded as much as he could. 

“Good boy.” He released Peter’s hair with a gentle push. 

Peter expected him to simply stuff the cloth in his mouth. But instead he wiped it, almost tenderly, under his nose and across his lips where Peter’s blood was still wet. 

“Wanna make sure the tape sticks,” the man said as a reply to Peter’s confused look. “Now. Open.”

Peter hesitated. This was his last ounce of control. But after another glance toward the injured employee, he opened his mouth and let Barrett stuff the bloody cloth in. 

_Come on, Mr. Stark, please!_, he begged as his mouth was firmly taped over.

When the man was satisfied, he ruffled Peter’s hair and then walked over to the employee, grabbed his ankles, and none-too-gently dragged him out. Peter was about to make a sound of protest at the rough treatment but it died in his throat when the man’s face came into view and he was met with lifeless, staring eyes. 

“He was dead before you walked in the door, little guy.” Barrett said with smirk. “It was cute of you to think you were helping though.” 

Peter’s eyes began to burn as he stared at the poor man’s face, bloodied and beaten and swollen. He surely had a family. A wife, children... loved ones who right now were waiting for him to come home from work. 

“Aw,” Barrett cooed as he returned to Peter. “Are you going to cry?”

Peter’s vision had gone blurry but he shook his head as he turned away from the dead man. 

“Hey, almost done out here.” Jason appeared in the entryway to the warehouse.

Barrett gestured down toward Peter. “Look, I made him cry.”

To his embarrassment, Peter felt his cheeks heat up and he stared resolutely at the ground until Barrett grabbed his chin and forced his head up to meet his gaze. 

“He’s so cute,” the man murmured thoughtfully, eyebrows drawing together. There was something disturbingly genuine in his eyes that made Peter’s skin crawl. 

_Ding._

All three of them froze at the sound of the door opening, then Barrett whipped his head toward Jason. 

“You didn’t lock the fucking door?!” He hissed. 

“I was too busy dealing with -“

“Hey kiddo, what’s the hold up?” Tony’s searching voice filtered into the back room and Peter dropped his head backwards, closing his eyes in relief. 

When he opened them again, Barrett had gravitated towards the door, tucking the gun into the back of his waistband, and Jason was marching toward him with murder in his eyes. 

Peter immediately tried to shift away, but Jason dropped to one knee next to him and pulled him back flush against his chest, holding his hand firmly over Peter’s mouth despite the fact that he was already gagged. 

“Don’t make a single fucking noise, do you hear me?” He growled into Peter’s ear. “Don’t move, and stay quiet, or I’ll shoot you and then I’ll walk out there and I’ll shoot him.”

Then Barrett stepped out from the back room and up behind the counter. 


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I actually researched Tony's gauntlet watch for accuracy in this chapter, the one he used in Civil War. ^_^

Tony wasn’t sure whether to be worried or not when he realized that over ten minutes had passed and Peter was still inside. On one hand, Peter often had the attention span of a bumble bee and could have easily gotten distracted by something else in the store. Or perhaps he was just taking his time picking out a pair of earbuds he liked, which was fine. On the other hand, Tony knew him well enough to know that he would probably sooner floss with barbed wire than risk being an inconvenience. 

Either way, when a glance at the clock showed 10:23pm, he immediately knew he needed to hang up with Pepper and go get him. That was thirteen minutes he’d been inside, and that was too long. 

He heard the soft ding upon entering the store and half expected Peter to instantly pop out of one of the aisles with wide eyes and a million apologies. 

“Hey kiddo, what’s the hold up?” He made sure to add a hint of good-natured annoyance to his tone, partly to tease the kid and partly to mask the worry that was hovering around the outskirts of his thoughts. 

The store wasn’t so big that his voice wouldn’t be heard throughout the lobby, but it was certainly big enough that he didn’t want to go searching for him aisle by aisle like a lost toddler. 

His only response, however, was the God-awful pop music coming from the ceiling and the faint buzz of fluorescent lighting. He stuffed his hands into his pants’ pockets and strode deeper into the store, peeking down a few aisles as he went. 

“Hello?” He called again. 

He frowned when he saw the empty checkout counter, but then a man with dark brown pulled-back hair stepped into view. 

“Hi, I’m sorry but we just closed,” the man said with a friendly yet apologetic smile. “I was just on my way to lock the door.”

“That’s fine, I’m just here to wrangle up the kid who came in a little while ago.” Tony’s gaze darted restlessly around the store, his unease growing with each second that ticked by and Peter failed to appear. He had to have heard Tony’s voice by now. 

“I’m sorry, no one has come in here in at least a half hour.”

Tony spun around to meet the man’s eyes, narrowing his own. “I watched him walk in the door.”

He received an irritatingly casual shrug in return. “Perhaps he left again when you weren’t looking? We do also have a rear entrance, he might have gone out that way.”

Tony slowly drew closer, cocking his head to one side and holding the man’s gaze. “No. He didn’t. He’s in here.”

The fake smile faltered slightly, but then the man crossed his arms. “I assure you there is no one else here. And I do need to lock the door, so if you wouldn’t mind, I’m going to have to ask you to leave.” 

Tony’s eyes flitted critically over the man’s clothing - dark jeans, nondescript gray shirt... odd for an employee. He opened his mouth to voice his suspicions, but then his eyes landed on a small package laying on the floor in front of the check out counter and all other thoughts fled his mind. 

His fingers began to go cold as he slowly bent down to pick up the red and gold Ironman-themed earbuds. The cheap plastic crinkled a little bit in his hand and he placed it carefully on the counter before putting his hands flat on either side of it. 

“Let’s try this again.” He ran his tongue over his teeth and leaned forward to be sure the dick on the other side of the counter was paying attention. “Where. Is he.”

The man’s eyes hardened for a few seconds but then the facade dropped and he heaved a dramatic sigh. “God, the little guy didn’t know to take a hint and leave when he should have either.” 

Heat flushed over Tony’s skin at the confirmation but before he could move, the man pulled a gun from behind him. Tony tensed, but it seemed he was content to just hold it loosely by his side and smirk. 

“What did you do with him?” Tony's hands curled into fists on the countertop. 

“He’s in the back.” The man tilted his head to the side in thought and was silent for a few more seconds before continuing. “Eh. You can come back too. I was thinking of just shooting you here but I don’t feel like dealing with a second body. We’re already going away for murder if we get caught as it is, might as well try and keep the body count down.”

Tony’s heartbeat stuttered at the man’s words but he let out a slow breath and forced himself to keep his cool as the man moved into the side room. The second he was out of view, Tony pressed the side button on his watch three times, sending an alert to Happy that they were in trouble and needed immediate backup. Contrary to popular belief, he didn’t carry his Ironman armor with him wherever he went. He was wearing his gauntlet watch, however, which was much better than nothing. It didn’t have a whole lot of tricks or offensive power, but it had a flash beam and an ultrasonic pulse, both good for disabling a person. 

It occurred to him, however, that unless he was extremely careful with his aim he might do more harm than good. Peter was so overly sensitive to light and sound that it would hurt him twice as much as it would their enemy if he was too close by. 

Well, it was bulletproof, so there was that. 

When the dick opened the side door, the first thing Tony noticed was that the gun was now trained directly at his head. 

“Slowly,” the man warned before waving him in. 

There were speckles of blood on the ugly linoleum floor. A blasted open safe. Another smear of darkened blood leading to a dead body, face horrifically beaten in. 

But it wasn’t the dead body that made his blood run cold, it was Peter. The boy was tied so tight it had to hurt, tape over his mouth and bruises blossoming across his face. Paths of blood ran from his nose, his cheek, and the corner of his eyebrow. His hair was messy like there had been too many fingers in it and his eyes were red-rimmed and watery, looking at Tony with a mixture of worry and relief. 

The realization that he had spent thirteen minutes chatting with Pepper and picking at his fingernails in the car all the while Peter was being beaten and mistreated left him feeling utterly sick. 

Then some bald asshole with fresh blood on his knuckles was there shoving Peter to the ground and moving to stand over him. 

_“Hey!”_ Tony barked, lurching forward as fury momentarily blinded him to all else. He had to stop short, however, when the dark-haired prick reasserted his presence by stepping in front and cocking the pistol that was still aimed at his head. 

Baldie leaned down and grabbed onto the layers of duct tape wrapped over Peter’s chest, lifted his torso off the ground, and then slugged him hard in the face. Tony flinched as new flecks of blood sprayed over the floor. 

“You said you came here alone, you little shit!” The man growled, face flushed red. 

Peter lifted his head just in time to be struck again, this time squeezing his eyes closed and letting out a pained huff through his bloody nose. 

“Stop, asshole!” Tony yelled.

“Hey, buddy. Sit down.” The dick with the gun gestured to a plastic chair as though he and Tony were the only two people in the room. 

The bald man sent his fist flying into Peter’s face again, and then again. The boy’s legs began to pull and scissor at each other, his body reflexively trying to break free. 

“I’m not doing _shit _until Baldie lays off!”

To his surprise, the man seemed to be in agreement. Without taking his eyes off Tony, he directed his voice over his shoulder. “Jason, put the little guy down. We need to move this along.”

Baldie dropped Peter to the floor, but then sent a heavy, vicious kick into the kid’s unprotected side. Tony clenched his fists, anger and worry battling for dominance in his mind as Peter grunted loudly in pain and curled onto his side. A second hard kick landed directly under his sternum and must have knocked his breath out of him because his grunt was cut off and he opened his eyes wide in panic, chest pulling to bring in air. 

“Lay off!” Tony shouted when Baldie kicked him yet again right in the same spot and Peter jerked, pulling his knees up to his chest. 

“Jason!” the dark-haired man said simultaneously. “I need your gun on this guy so I can tie him down, leave the kid! And you, buddy, sit down in the chair, I’m not gonna say it again.”

Before Tony could move, a new voice entered the conversation - a blond man standing in the doorway on the other side of the room. 

“Oh _come on,_ man. Seriously? Every time I come back here something stupid is happening.” Then his roving eyes landed on Tony and immediately all the color drained from his face. “Ooh no. Nope. Nope. I’m out.” His hands went up and he took a step backward. 

“What?” The dark-haired dick glanced at him in confusion. “What’s wrong with you?”

“That’s Tony Stark, man, are you stupid?!”

“Who the fuck cares?”

“Are you _stupid?!_ I care!” The blond’s eyes dropped to Peter, bloodied and bruised, struggling to drag in air through his bloody nose. “Oh, cool, Jason, you gonna beat another person to death? I didn’t come here so you can indulge your violence kink. I barely wanted to do this in the first place, this was supposed to be a simple job. I’m out.”

“Fuck you, you’re not out,” Jason snapped, finally turning his back on Peter. Tony risked a quick glance down at him and felt a pang through his heart when their eyes met. The kid was in rough shape. He was quietly pulling at his arms and trying to separate his ankles. There was clear pain and distress in his gaze but he somehow still looked at Tony as though he was more worried for him than he was for himself. 

“I’m not messing with Tony Stark,” the blond insisted. His eyes darted about the room. “I’m serious, man, there are probably invisible drones in here with us.”

_Lesson one on why reputation is important._

“I’d listen to him,” Tony interjected, then shrugged when the three men turned to look at him. “He’s right, you are stupid.”

Jason’s nostrils flared, face flushing a deep red again. Tony could see Peter in his peripheral vision staring up at him with wide, shocked eyes but forced himself not to look down again. He wanted these men to forget that his intern was even there. Instead, he crossed his arms, casual and slow. 

“You’re trying to rob a store with the front door wide open? You let two people just wander in on this amateur excuse for a heist. And it’s still open, by the way. Thank you for that, my security detail will just let themselves in when they get here in a couple minutes.”

Of course, it would be a whole lot longer than a couple minutes for Happy or the police to get there. 

The dark haired man took a deep breath through his nose but then just smiled. “Liam, go lock the door,” he said with forced civility. 

The blond hesitated, looking between the dark haired man and Tony. Tony held his gaze, hoping to intimidate him into backing down. He wanted one of the other two clearly more violent men to leave the room, but unfortunately Liam opted to obey. He kept his eyes on Tony on his way out, staying as far away from him as he possibly could. 

The room’s attention turned back to the billionaire and his mind raced through his options. He had very limited time if he wanted to make a move while they were down a man. 

“Barrett.” Baldie tossed a roll of duct tape to the dark-haired man, who caught it with one hand while keeping his gun steadily on Tony with the other. 

“You have five seconds to sit,” he said coldly. 

No matter what, he couldn’t let himself be tied down. He needed to activate his watch gauntlet, but it took several seconds to fully unfold and as long as this man’s attention was on him, he couldn’t -

“-or Jason will shoot the little guy.”

Tony’s stomach dropped as Baldie pulled a pistol from his waistband. He forced Peter onto his back with a kick, planted his boot on the boy’s chest, and leveled the gun at his forehead. Peter gave an annoyed grunt at the forced movement and then glared up at the man. 

“Which would be a shame, because he’s adorable,” Barrett continued, voice softening slightly. “He thought that dead guy was still alive and tried to get me to help him.”

Tony couldn’t help but feel a rush of fondness for his pure-hearted intern.

“But a bullet’s gonna go through his cute little face if you don’t sit down in five... four...”

Peter’s eyes flicked rapidly between Tony and Barrett. 

“Three... two...”

Tony sat and slowly moved his hands behind him to give the illusion of cooperation. Then as Barrett smirked and tucked his gun away, Tony began to activate his watch behind his back, feeling the hard metal unfold to encompass his hand. He looked to Peter, whose eyes were still moving, and realized he was trying to send him a message. When he saw he had Tony’s attention, his gaze turned from Tony and Barrett to himself and Baldie. The duct tape on Peter’s ankles looked stretched, on the verge of snapping. 

The idea of letting this fifteen year old who was tied up and beaten take on a man who had a gun to his head was absurd and went against all of Tony’s better judgement. But he had to remind himself that he truly wasn’t an average fifteen year old. He fought crime almost daily and could catch buses with his bare hands. He had reflexes faster than most people Tony knew, and Tony knew a fair amount of superheroes. 

It would only have to be for a few seconds, hopefully.

He could hear his heartbeat pulsing in his ears as he turned his eyes back to Barrett and clenched his fist behind his back. The man pulled the duct tape from the roll and stepped towards him, self-satisfied smirk still on his lips. 

The second he was within arm’s reach, Tony swung his metal fist upward in an undercut, connecting with the bottom of Barrett’s chin and snapping his head backwards. To the left of him, Peter yanked his ankles apart and sent one foot solidly between Jason’s legs, who doubled over with a shout. 

Barrett stumbled backward and Tony followed, landing another hit to his jaw. He began to pull the gun from his belt but Tony was faster and punched his hand, sending the gun skittering through the doorway and into the warehouse. 

He snuck a glance toward Peter, who swung a leg across himself and whacked Jason’s pistol out of his hand as well, then tangled their legs together, tripping the thief up when he went to dive for the firearm. 

Tony had to turn away when Barrett swung at him. He raised an arm to block, backing up one step and then another when the man landed a solid hit into his side. His opponent’s movements were fast and feverish, but Tony was more than a match for him and landed several more punches of his own before charging up his gauntlet. As soon as he had half an opening, he put his palm against the man’s eyes and blasted the blinding flash beam. Barrett screamed and reeled backward until he hit the wall, grasping at his eyes. Tony grabbed the front of his shirt while he was still disoriented and struck him in the temple. The man started to go limp and Tony hit him again right in the same place, finally knocking him unconscious. He let the man drop to the ground and spun back to Peter, sounds of muted struggling registering in his mind as he did. 

Peter’s legs were locked around Jason’s waist to keep him from moving closer to the gun, but Jason had a hand clamped around the boy’s neck, cutting off his air and likewise pinning him to the floor. Peter’s face was bright red and Tony could see reflexive tears trailing from the corners of his eyes as he twisted and tried in vain to bring his arms out from under him. 

Tony charged towards them as Jason drew his other fist back and slammed it into the side of Peter’s head. The boy’s legs loosened from around his waist and Jason leaned for the pistol. Tony got there just in time and wrapped an arm around the man’s neck, wrenching him backward and finally breaking his grip on his intern’s throat. Peter immediately tried to drag air in through his nose but there must have been too much blood draining backwards and blocking his airway because he began to make wet choking noises and spasming in what no doubt needed to be coughs to clear his throat. 

Before Tony could do anything to help him, Jason gave a furious growl and shoved them both violently backward, ramming Tony’s back painfully into the edge of the computer table and sending the whole thing crashing loudly to the floor. He lost his grip around the thrashing man’s neck on their way down and his heart thundered wildly in his chest as he was wrestled onto his back. But before Jason even had a chance to send a punch towards him, Tony charged and released an ultrasonic pulse directly into his face. The man howled, rearing back and clapping his hands over his ears, and Tony surged upward, immediately charging and releasing a second blast. 

Two pulses at such close range was guaranteed to do some fairly serious damage to the man’s eardrums and Tony found himself struggling to resist hitting him with a third pulse as he toppled backwards. Instead, Tony shoved him down and punched him straight in the nose. There was an audible crack as the cartilage broke and almost instantly blood began to pour from his nostrils. He was clearly disoriented but was still awake and still attempting to fight back so Tony drew his fist back and struck him again, adrenaline and protective rage coursing through him. Finally, after a third hard hit, Jason stopped moving. 

Tony stayed poised over him for a few seconds to make sure his eyes stayed closed, breathing heavily and feeling tingles run over his skin. 

Then the sound of short, nasally gurgles behind him snapped him out of his post-fight daze and he scrambled back to Peter. He had made it onto his side but otherwise just laid there struggling to pull air in without choking on his own blood. 

His glazed, reddened eyes turned frantic when he saw Tony, who quickly slid one hand behind the boy’s neck and used the other to peel the duct tape from his mouth. A huge wad of bloody cloth followed and Tony winced in sympathy as Peter gagged on it on its way out, then continued to hack and cough. He rolled the boy up onto his knees to more easily expel the blood that had caught in his lungs. 

“You’re okay. You’re alright,” Tony soothed, holding him steady and rubbing his back with a shaky hand as the boy convulsed forward and blood dribbled from his mouth. He took a quick, cursory glance about the room for scissors or a knife to cut his intern free but saw nothing within reach and worried that the boy would faceplant if he let go of him. After a few more racking coughs Peter was able to draw in full breaths and was left hunched over, hanging his head and gasping in air. 

“You’re okay, Pete, just take it easy.” He continued to rub and pat the boy’s back as he settled down, all the while keeping a wary eye on the two unconscious thieves. 

_No, murderers,_ he corrected himself darkly, gaze darting to the beaten employee who laid less than ten feet away and stared unseeing at the ceiling. 

He wondered what became of the blond man. If he had truly sided with his cohorts he would have come running back at the sound of the fight. Even in the unlikely scenario that he hadn’t heard all the struggling, he was long overdue to return from locking the door. 

“Other guy?” Peter rasped as though reading his thoughts, tilting his head up to meet Tony’s eyes. He looked on the verge of passing out, like every small movement was painful and exhausting.

“I’m thinking he high-tailed it out of here,” Tony answered, instinctively brushing his thumb over a path of blood that was trailing too close to the corner of Peter’s eye. He allowed himself to feel a small amount of satisfaction knowing that his intimidation technique had worked on the blond after all. “Either as soon as he left the room or as soon as he heard the screaming, probably. Fear not though, squirt, I’ll set the hounds on him and he’ll be found soon. He probably thinks I have a tracker on him already. God, I love my reputation.”

Tony’s attempts at levity seemed to go right over Peter’s head, as the boy just watched him speak with his eyebrows knit together and finally began to shake his head. “You can’t be sure, Mr. Stark, what if he’s still here? Where are the guns?” He straightened a bit under Tony’s arm and looked between Jason and Barrett. “What if these guys wake up?”

“Then I’ll punch them again.”

Peter just continued to shake his head. “You have to tie them up or something. Where are the guns?” His slowly focusing eyes moved about the room. 

“Hey, it’s okay, Pete. They’re not waking up. The guns haven’t moved.”

“But, I can’t... I can’t help you.” He pulled hard at his wrists, eyes scrunching and groaning in effort. When nothing happened right away, he gave a frustrated whimper and hung his head again. 

“Slow down, champ. I’ll get you out, just relax for a minute,” Tony urged, squeezing Peter’s arms and then guiding him to slump against the couch. He crossed the room, stepping carefully around the various bodies, to rifle through the desk drawers. 

“You have to tie them up, Mr. Stark, please. And get the guns, and... and lock the door. No, we should leave. We should probably leave, right?”

Tony grabbed a pair of scissors and turned back, eyebrows furrowing in confusion at the agitation in his intern’s voice. “Is your danger sense going off or something?”

Peter stopped analyzing the room to meet Tony’s gaze as he approached. 

“No,” he replied quietly, then dropped his eyes and rested his head on the edge of a couch cushion. 

“Okay, then just relax, kid,” Tony encouraged, crouching behind him to start sawing through the layers upon layers of duct tape surrounding his wrists. “It’s over now. They’re both knocked out and the other guy isn’t even here anymore.”

Peter just swallowed, and Tony saw his eyes continue to flicker around the room. Cutting through the tape was an annoying process, as there was an excessive amount of it and the scissors were small and cheap, the blades quickly getting sticky and dull from the adhesive. He was about halfway through when he noticed that Peter’s fingers were trembling. He glanced up to see him chewing on his lower lip, gaze still darting between the bodies, the guns, and the doorways. 

“You sure everything’s okay?” Tony asked, continuing his work with renewed speed while keeping an eye on Peter’s face. The bruises on his skin were darkening with every minute that passed and while the blood around his cheek and eye was beginning to dry, it still trickled fresh from his nose. 

Suddenly Tony felt like a fool. This kid had just spent the last half hour being beaten and held at gunpoint, completely out of control and at the mercy of murderers and Tony was telling him to relax. He had been in the business of violence and criminal activity and death for so long that he sometimes forgot that Peter was essentially still brand new to it. A baby in the superhero world. He hadn’t asked for what just happened. He hadn’t put on his suit and gone out into the night with the intention of seeking out and stopping crime. He was just a kid who didn’t feel well and wanted to be able to listen to quiet music to help him sleep. 

Tony didn’t want to stop until Peter was free but he paused long enough to rub a warm hand over the boy’s back. That single comforting gesture, it seemed, was all it took for Peter’s eyes to well up and the next time he blinked, tears slipped down his cheeks. Tony felt his heart break a little when he quickly wiped his face on the edge of the cushion and went back to staring at the various parts of the room, determined to keep watch. 

“It’s okay, Pete,” Tony said gently, giving his shoulder a quick squeeze before continuing his work. “I’m almost done here, then I’ll take care of all that.”

Peter nodded and sniffled quietly a few times as he waited for Tony to finish. When the last of the tape was finally peeled away from his skin, he drew in a shuddering breath and curled his arms forward to rub his midsection. Tony wanted to take the time to try and comfort him but he knew he needed to get him out of the room. Away from the horrible scene, the dead body, and his tormentors. 

“Sit tight for a second,” Tony said, then moved about as quickly as he possibly could, gathering the two guns and putting them on top of a high filing cabinet, then duct taping the two unconscious men in a weird inverse of what he had just spent the last few minutes doing. 

When he was finished Peter was rubbing absentmindedly at his biceps and staring at the dead employee with wet, dull eyes. Tony stepped in front of him and crouched down, breaking his view. Shaken out of his daze, Peter looked at the floor between them. 

“You ready to leave, kiddo?” He rested an arm on his intern’s shoulder and lightly scratched at the hair on the back of his head. “I want to get you to the Medbay, make sure your brains haven’t been scrambled too badly.”

Peter nodded, but otherwise didn’t move so Tony just kept rubbing at the back of his head and waited. 

“It’s just I usually... get there. Before this part can happen,” Peter mumbled in a rough, choked off voice, and tipped his head pointedly behind Tony. 

“I know,” Tony replied. He wondered if Peter had ever actually seen a dead body other than his uncle. “I’m sorry this happened. I’m sorry this happened to you, and to him. You didn’t deserve it and I’m guessing he didn’t either.”

“He probably had a family, Mr. Stark. They don’t know he’s dead yet.” 

Tony saw the tears coming and briefly panicked, but before he could get into his own head he pulled Peter into a hug, turning just enough to be sure Peter wouldn’t be able to see the employee. 

There was no uncontrollable wailing or stream of wetness into his shoulder. Just the quiet shaking and sniffling of a tender-hearted kid who, despite what he had just been through, was still trying to appear strong while he mourned someone he didn’t even know. 

Tony closed his eyes and held him close, running a hand over his back and allowing himself a moment to marvel at the idea that someone like Peter Parker even existed in a world so driven by corruption. And then appreciate how much worse this evening could have ended. 

“I’m so sorry, Peter. I really am. I should have checked on you so much sooner. I should have known something was wrong.”

“Are you kidding?” Peter somehow managed a wet chuckle. His hands clutched Tony’s back, treasuring the contact. “You totally saved me, Mr. Stark! I was so relieved when you came in. I knew you would know what to do. I was just... I was just useless. I couldn’t even do anything.”

“Hey. Self-hate is my thing, not yours.”

“I’m supposed to be learning from you, though, aren’t I?”

“Yeah, my good qualities. Which should take you plenty of time, because there are a lot of them.”

“That doesn’t sound like self hate.”

“Okay, we’re leaving.” Tony squeezed him a little tighter and then hefted them both to their feet with a dramatic groan. Peter giggled, sending warm satisfaction blooming through Tony’s chest. 

The transition from that claustrophobic, blood-splattered, fluorescent-lit back room into the fresh night air of the open parking lot was borderline cathartic. Peter apparently felt similarly because he heaved a deep sigh and relaxed into Tony’s side. 

At the car, Tony guided Peter into the back seat so he could lay down but paused before closing the door. 

“Listen, kid. I’m going to need something in return for saving your hide tonight.”

Peter stared up at him uncertainly. 

“I’m gonna need you to accept some good quality earbuds from me.”

Crinkles appeared at the corner of Peter’s bruised eyes as a smile spread over his face. 

“You may not like them. The ones I have in mind are Ironman colors. But I don’t think it’s too much for me to ask in return. What do you say?”

Peter’s eyes positively twinkled in wonder.

“How did you- I mean. Wow, yeah. No, I would really like ones like that!”

Tony smiled and looked up at the sound of police cruisers finally pulling into the parking lot. 

Hours later, after Peter had been checked out and was safely and comfortably asleep, Tony received a text from Happy. 

_Hey boss. Cops picked up the third guy. Said he’s been very adamantly suggesting that you be made aware so that you can call off any “invisible murder drones” that you might have sent after him. I'll leave that decision up to you._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for reading and thank you to everyone who leaves comments and/or kudos! They are delightful and I feed on them. <3

**Author's Note:**

> So sorry for the cliffhanger, but part two is being worked on! Let me know if you like it so far. All comments are loved and treasured! <3


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